


One Step Closer to the Danger Zone

by Politzania



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hero Worship, Identity Porn, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: Tony Stark is on a semi-voluntary vacation in rural Missouri;  a diamond in the rough pizza delivery guymight be just what he needs to combat both boredom and a slightly broken heart.Tony Stark Bingo Square: T1 - Tony Stark/Peter Quill





	One Step Closer to the Danger Zone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tisfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/gifts).



Tony was bored. Bored and hungry. Nothing that he and Happy had stocked the kitchen of the lake cottage with sounded good or seemed worth making. And it was most likely that the only places open at this late hour in were bars, which would be a Very Bad Idea right now. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood to be stared and and talked about; even if no one recognized him as Tony Stark, he knew how small towns worked. 

This forced vacation had been Pepper’s idea, of course; getting him out of the spotlight while everything blew over. ‘Everything’ primarily being the failed hostile takeover attempt of Stark Industries by Obadiah Stane, the former CEO of the company and the late Howard Stark’s supposed best friend. 

It had been a near thing; a not-insignificant percentage of key stockholders and Board members had sided with Stane and his plans to remain a weapons manufacturer. But there were enough smaller stockholders aligned with Tony’s own desire to diversify into clean energy and telecommunications to take the day. Obadiah had been nearly apoplectic at the final vote, vowing to find some way to “knock you off your high horse, Tony.” 

Pepper’s suggestion to take a short sabbatical while Obadiah cooled off made sense; in fact, Tony was thankful for a breather from the nonstop glad-handing and consensus-building he and Pepper had both had to do in order to succeed. But perhaps the weeks of travel and enforced togetherness with the newly-minted CEO of the company had also triggered the other, unspoken reason. 

Tony and Pepper -- after nearly a year of back and forthing -- had tried to make a go of it as lovers as well as friends and co-workers. She was quite aware of his numerous flaws, and she’d also known since almost the beginning of their friendship that he was bisexual. But it had never been a problem ... until, apparently, it was. 

Yeah, Tony might have gone on and on about having met both Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan on the set of their latest film the last time he was in LA, but it’s not as if anything had -- or could have -- happened. He was just enjoying the view. But it must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back, and here he was, alone in the the Middle of Nowhere, Missouri. Bored, heart-sore ... and still hungry.

As the latter was the only one he could do something about, Tony picked up the depressingly thin phone book and started calling the local take out restaurants. The first two wouldn’t even deliver out to his location; but the third, Milano’s Pizzeria, said their driver lived out in that direction and if he could wait til they closed in about an hour, they’d send out Tony’s order with him. 

In gratitude, Tony ordered an extra-large deluxe pizza, breadsticks and garlic bread, along with a couple of bottles of soda. He also planned to double, if not triple the driver’s tip. While he waited, he kept himself busy by making some tweaks to his satellite internet connection so he get some more work done. He’d already burned through most of what he’d brought with him, hence the boredom. 

Tony was out on the deck, wondering how much trouble he would be in for cutting a tree down that was in the satellite's line of sight when he heard the roar of an engine coming down the private road to the cottage. It sounded like a V8, probably running a glasspack muffler -- something old school and with a bit of muscle. Tony heard it downshift as it hit the last couple of turns before gunning up the hill. 

Gravel went flying as the driver hit the brakes hard and skidded into the the pool of light shed by the porch lamps. It was a late 70’s Ford Mustang that had seen better days, T-tops were open to the warm, humid night and an old Foreigner song blasting from the speakers: 

>   
>  _I’ve been in trouble since I don’t know when_  
>  _I’m in trouble now and I know somehow_  
>  _I’ll find trouble again_  
> 

The music cut off abruptly as the driver jumped out, hand running through his tousled, sandy brown hair. “Sorry, sorry! I, uh, got goin’ a little faster up that hill than I thought.” He flashed a charmingly apologetic grin as he rounded the hood of the car to open the passenger side door. 

The man was older than Tony had expected, probably in his mid thirties, but when he bent over slightly to retrieve the pizza box and other food containers, Tony got a good look at tight, faded jeans stretched over a nicely-rounded ass, with muscular thighs to boot. He mentally filed away the images for future alone-time reference. 

The guy stood back up, his hands full of boxes and bags and looked around. “Huh, woulda expected you were having some sort of party with all this food.” 

“Nah, just me,” Tony replied as he handed over the cash in exchange. “Went a little overboard with my order, didn’t I? Guess I’ll have plenty of leftovers. Cold pizza for breakfast, just like in college, right?” he joked. 

The guy shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Never went. Been stuck here for most of my life.” There was a touch of bitterness in his reply that caught Tony off guard. 

“Seems a nice enough place.” 

The driver snorted in reply. “Yeah, if you wanna settle down, get married right outta high school. have a few kids, maybe get divorced and probably lose your job when the local plant shuts down.” Well, that seemed to explain the bitterness. 

“Speaking from experience, I take it?” 

“Not exactly.” There was an odd quirk to his lips and a brief, almost wistful look in his eyes. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to what you’re doing.” 

“Want to join me?” Tony asked on impulse. He’d thought he’d had enough of forced sociability over the past few months, but a week alone in a strange place had been surprisingly lonely. And okay, maybe inviting a complete stranger into his remote cottage wasn’t the smartest thing, but Tony’s sense of self-preservation had never been that strong to start with. “I’ve got plenty of food, and it sounded like you were on your way home, at least according to the gal who took my order.” 

The guy shrugged again. “Sure. Thanks.” He looked Tony over for a moment. “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like Tony Stark?” 

“Can’t say they have.” Which was not exactly a lie. “Funny enough, my name’s Tony, too. Tony Carbonell.” His mother’s maiden name came easily enough to his lips and would do nicely as a temporary alias. 

“Peter. Peter Quill.” 

 

Tony set the boxes down on the counter, then folded up the laptop and stacked up the books and papers he had scattered across the table, making room for them to eat. “Sorry about the mess. I’m on kind of a working vacation.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a tech designer.” It was a vast simplification, but adequate. 

“Really?” Peter brightened. “I wanted to do something like that. But with my grandparents raising me after my mom died; well, we didn’t have the money and I wasn’t smart enough or a big enough jock for scholarships. So I work on cars instead. ” That note of resignation had returned to Peter’s voice. 

“That takes smarts, too, and some serious problem-solving skills,” Tony replied, trying to make his guest feel better. “Especially with older cars, like what you’re driving.” He realized too late that by complimenting his guest, he’d kind of insulted his ride. 

Thankfully, Peter just chuckled as he took the glass of ice for the soda. “Yeah, she may not look like much --” 

“ ‘But she’s got it where it counts, kid.’, right?” Tony finished the quote with a smile. “Nice to find another Star Wars geek out here.” 

“Star Wars, Star Trek, any kind of sci fi I could get my hands on.” Peter looked down at his glass as he continued. “Guess it was escapism; wanting to be in a place where it was okay if you were different.” 

The more his companion talked, the more intrigued Tony was by him. It didn’t hurt that the guy was easy on the eyes, either; the grey t-shirt he wore clinging just right to his chest and shoulders. “Yeah, I get that,” Tony replied. They were both quiet for a moment as they got slices of pizza out of the box and took a few bites. “So, what’s the story on the car?” Tony finally asked. “You must’ve souped it up some -- it sounds great. ” 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled softly, as if he were unused to compliments. “Mom said my dad had one like it, when they met. Claimed it was part of the reason she went out with him in the first place.” From the way he spoke, added to the mention of being raised by his grandparents, it was obvious to Tony that Peter’s father hadn’t remained in the picture for too long. “I like to think it’s maybe the same one, you know?” 

“Stranger things have happened, I suppose.” Tony went on to tell Peter about Howard’s pet restoration project: a ‘32 Ford. “Of course, I wasn’t allowed to lay a finger on it when I was little. ‘Look, but don’t touch’, stuff like that.” 

Peter frowned a little before explaining how his grandfather owned a garage in town, and let him wrench on cars pretty much as soon as he knew ‘righty-tighty, lefty-loosey’. But they’d lost the business after Peter’s mom’s medical bills left the family bankrupt. “I still have most of his tools, though, and use them to help neighbors out when I can. I think he’d be happy about that.” 

Tony knew when he was being fed a hard-luck story; but this wasn’t it. Peter might not have had much lemonade, but he hadn’t let life’s lemons make him sour, either. He was compassionate and had plenty of native intelligence, if not formal education. 

The two of them talked for another hour or so; Tony attempted to keep his tendency to flirt in check, but Peter made it tough. Not only was he handsome as hell, but his laid-back nature and understated charm made affable banter all too easy, with a few of his comments toeing the line between friendly and flirtatious as well. The next thing Tony knew, it was going on two o’clock in the morning and they were polishing off the rest of the pizza. 

“So much for breakfast,” Tony joked, brushing off Peter’s apology even as he tried not to think about what his guest might look like first thing in the morning, sun shining on sleep-warmed skin, his hair even more tousled. 

“You know, you even sound like Tony Stark,” Peter commented, a smile playing around his lips.

“Really?” Tony had almost forgotten about his secret identity; he hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone he’d just met in years. “Is that a good thing?” 

“Well, yeah!” Peter exclaimed. “I mean, I’m not, like, a stalkery ‘number one fan’ or anything, but, he was kind of someone I looked up to, growing up. After I read that article about him building his own robot back in the late 80’s? I spent the next month trying to do the same thing with cardboard boxes and tinfoil.” Peter shook his head, amused at the thought of his younger self’s initiative; Tony couldn’t help but be captivated by the sparkle in those hazel eyes. 

But then Peter sobered slightly. “And when I heard about the car accident that killed his parents -- I wanted to write him a letter. To tell him what the school counselor had told me after my mom died. That it was okay to be mad as well as sad. That he might even be angry at them for leaving him alone. And that wasn’t wrong or bad, it’s just part of how we grieve.” Peter sighed. “But I was just a kid, and had no idea where to send the letter. So I never did.” 

Tony’s throat tightened at Peter’s words. He remembered the turmoil of emotions he’d felt; and how he’d tried to dull those feelings with alcohol, drugs and sex. Maybe if Peter had found a way to send that letter, if Tony could have heard those words from someone that hadn’t been hired to try to fix him, things might have been different. 

“Maybe you should send a letter now -- tell him that story.” Tony’s voice rasped slightly. “He might appreciate the sentiment.” 

Peter shook his head. “Yeah, like Tony Stark would care what some lonely weirdo in flyover country thinks of him.” 

“You’re not weird.” 

Peter snorted. ‘Yeah, you try growing up gay around here and ‘weird’ is the about the nicest thing they call you.” He froze, as if realizing what he’d just said. “Uh, yeah. Guess I should go.” 

As Peter pushed away from the table, Tony put his hand on top of his companion’s. “Wait. I know how you feel. Well, maybe not exactly. But I get that loneliness. That confusion.” Peter stood, but didn’t step away, giving Tony a wary look as he listened. “It’s even tougher when you’re attracted to both women and men,” Tony continued. “Hell, part of the reason I’m here is because my girlfriend couldn’t deal with me being bi.” He held his breath, waiting as his words sunk in. 

Peter took Tony’s hand and pulled him to his feet; his pulse raced; those muscles he’d observed weren’t all for show. The look on Peter’s face -- a mix of hope and desire -- mirrored his own feelings. “Do you... Can I....?” Peter stumbled over the question, but it didn’t matter. 

“Yes. Please.” Peter’s kiss was heartbreakingly tentative at first, but as soon as Tony responded with a hum of encouragement, he gained confidence. They deepened the kiss and Peter put his arms around Tony, who returned the embrace. 

Tony had forgotten just how different kissing a man was; the scrape of stubble against his cheek, the broad hand resting on the nape of his neck. Peter’s scent -- a mix of soap and sweat, mixed with the humid night air -- was intoxicating. Tony yielded eagerly to Peter’s questing tongue, making sure to give as good as he was getting. 

“Now what?” Peter asked once they came up for air. His voice had gone rough, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. 

“I’ll follow your lead, sunshine. But I feel I should point out that the couch is surprisingly comfortable.” Tony only had a moment to enjoy Peter’s delighted grin before they were kissing again, and he was being walked backward across the room. Tony felt like a teenager making out in their parent’s living room. Or at least what he imagined it would be like, seeing as he’d lived most of his teen years away from home at boarding schools or college. 

The arm of the couch hit him in the back of the knees and Tony fell backward with a laugh. Peter caught himself on the back of the couch with one hand, placing a knee between Tony’s legs to carefully lower himself down. “Hey, handsome,” he murmured, caging Tony in between his arms. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” Tony replied; and he actually meant it. Everything else -- the company, splitting up with Pepper, worrying about Obadiah -- it all fell away as he and Peter shared these moments of pleasure, of freedom. As they continued necking, Tony slid his hands under Peter’s t-shirt. “Any chance I can sweet-talk you out of this?” 

“Sure, if you strip down, too.” Peter sat back on his heels and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. A dusting of curls covered his tanned chest; his physique was clearly the result of honest work instead of hours at the gym. Tony suddenly felt every one of his forty-two years and was reluctant to put his own middle-aged body on display. But he’d agreed, so he shimmied out from under Peter far enough to sit up and take off his own shirt. 

“That’s better.” Peter grinned wolfishly and pulled Tony up into a bare-chested embrace, crashing their lips together. Tony ran his hands up and down Peter’s back, savoring the feel of skin on skin. Peter held him close as his hungry lips traced down Tony’s jaw and neck, eliciting moans of pleasure. Clear evidence of his arousal was pressing hot and hard across Tony’s leg with his own erection straining against his inseam. 

Peter slid his hand partway into the waistband of Tony’s jeans, cupping his hipbone, sending a spike of desire down Tony’s spine. It would be so easy to give in to that desire, to let nature take its course, finding and giving pleasure with another man. But Tony wasn’t quite ready to let his little head take precedence over his big one. 

“Just so you know, hot stuff,” Tony murmured, “I was not planning on getting laid while on vacation, so I’m fresh out of supplies.” 

Peter pulled away, his pupils wide and his lips red and shiny. “Well, do you have any lotion?” 

“First off, that makes for lousy lube,” Tony started, ready to go into how he wasn’t about to bareback with someone he’d just barely met, no matter how hot he was. 

“Well, yeah, of course,” Peter blurted out, blushing. “I was just thinking... maybe we could, uh, give each other a hand?” He made a familiar gesture, ducking his head shyly. 

“That is a fantastic idea, loverboy. Lemme go check.” Tony pecked Peter on the cheek, disentangled himself and headed for the bathroom. He grabbed a few towels and rifled through his toiletry bag, coming up with a travel size bottle of lotion he must’ve picked up at a hotel somewhere. 

Peter had made good use of Tony’s absence, stripping down to just a tight pair of burgundy briefs. He was sprawled on the couch, presumably in an attempt to look sexy, but one knee was bouncing nervously. Tony found himself wondering how much experience his companion actually had; surely he’d found a few like-minded guys out here at some point. 

Tony wasn’t exactly well-practiced in this situation himself; most of his partners had been women. But handjobs were easy enough; most guys had plenty of self-pleasuring experience under their belts, so to speak, and Tony was no exception.

“Looks like I’m a bit overdressed,” he commented, tossing the towels on the couch before unfastening his own jeans. He made a little show of it; quite aware that his backside was one of his stronger assets. His own briefs were red and gold, a little flashy, he supposed, but that was his style. 

He sat next to Peter and ran his hand up the other man’s thigh. “How’s this for starters?” Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned his head back with a low groan, his cock twitching under the bulging cotton. 

“More, please.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough. Tony palmed him, the needy moans each touch engendered spurring him on to firmer strokes. A damp spot had already formed where the tip of Peter’s dick pressed against the cloth. As best Tony could tell, his partner was just about the same size as him, and wonderfully hard. 

Peter’s hand stole across Tony’s lap, his touch gentle at first, tracing around the edges of Tony’s cock and balls, mapping out the territory. Tony gasped as those clever fingers suddenly pushed aside the fabric and stroked up the side of his achingly hard cock, then taking him in hand. 

As good as everything felt, Tony knew this position wasn’t going to work for long. “How about we get these skivvies out of the way and I sit on your lap, sunshine?” Tony stifled a smirk at Peter’s look of astonishment and want as he sprang to his feet to remove his final item of clothing. 

Peter grabbed a towel to sit on, then patted his thighs encouragingly. Tony did another quick striptease before straddling his partner. Peter pulled him close for greedy kisses as Tony slid a hand between them to wrap around both of their stiff dicks. He swallowed Peter’s gasp of surprise, then patted around for the small bottle. 

“One step ahead of you for once.” Peter murmured, smiling against Tony’s lips. He clicked the lid open before drizzling the cool lotion over their heated skin. His hand joined Tony’s, squeezing just tightly enough as they both stroked up and down. Unfortunately, their alignment was a little too far off, requiring some uncomfortable contortions on Tony’s part. So he reluctantly let go and scooted back just a little, giving them room to jack one another off. 

Peter, to his credit, figured out the change in plan without a word being said; his grip suddenly firm and thrilling around Tony’s cock. Tony reached down to return the favor, even as he mouthed enthusiastically at Peter’s neck. Tony wanted to keep kissing him, but the sounds coming out of Peter were even more of a turn-on -- moans and gasps interspersed with pleas for more, ‘yes’-es and ‘oh god’s. 

The waves of pleasure built in Tony’s core, he could feel the tingle of an impending orgasm. He whispered in Peter’s ear, “You got me right on the edge, baby. You gonna join me? Shoot your wad all over like the stud you are?” That must’ve been the right thing to say, as Peter’s hips bucked up, thrusting erratically into Tony’s hand. 

A long, low groan accompanied his climax; to Peter’s credit, he kept stroking, and that last bit of consideration pushed Tony over the edge as well. He muffled his high keen of pleasure in Peter’s shoulder as he spilled between them, his free hand clutching the back of the sofa. Peter leaned back, breathing heavily and pulling Tony to him, heedless of the mess they’d made of each other. It felt good to have someone’s arms around him again, especially in such in a vulnerable moment. 

But it couldn’t last, for mere physical reasons, as well as the larger reality. So Tony slowly stood, holding a towel to him. Peter did the same, and they stared at each other for a moment before Tony spoke. “Uh, you’re welcome to stay for whatever’s left of the night. The guest room is down the hall,” then he added bravely, “or there’s a king bed in the master suite.” 

“That sounds kinda nice. Lemme clean up a bit.” Peter went into the hallway bathroom, and Tony took advantage of the ensuite. After a few quick swipes with a wet washcloth, he donned a pair of boxers and peeked out into the bedroom. Peter had put his briefs back on as well and was standing in front of the wide picture window that looked out over the lake and into the sky. 

“Nice view.” 

“Yeah, it is,” Tony replied, putting just enough emphasis on the phrase to make the double meaning clear There wasn’t enough light to see if Peter were actually blushing, but his body language -- including raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck -- seemed enough of a tell. 

“I ... uh ... so...” Peter gestured towards the bed. “Is it just me or is this kinda awkward?” 

Tony nodded in agreement “A bit, but it doesn’t have to be.” He sat down on the bed and patted the other side. “Let’s get some rest. We can talk in the morning.” As he drifted to sleep, Tony reflected that Happy would have a conniption if he knew that not only had Tony invited a stranger into the lake home, but had gotten to second base with him and then let him stay the night. But what did his personal bodyguard know?

 

Tony awoke to the smell of coffee and entirely too much sunlight streaming through the window. 

“Morning.” 

Tony opened one eye to see Peter, already awake, a soft smile on his lips. He looked just as adorably sleep-mussed as Tony had imagined. He grunted a reply, which made Peter smile even wider. 

“I take it you’re not an early bird.” Tony made a negative noise and closed his eyes, wondering how Peter could possibly put together a full sentence when it was this early. 

“Do I smell coffee? Or is that my imagination?” Peter asked. 

“Timer.” Tony mumbled. While he hadn’t gotten around to installing a remote copy of his digital assistant, he’d made damn sure to set the coffeemaker up so the elixir of life would be ready to help him start each day. 

Peter leaned forward and kissed Tony’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, babe.” Tony’s heart leapt at the casual endearment; he realized that despite their late night, he felt more rested than he had since he’d been here. While still bleary-eyed, he managed to rise to a sitting position by the time his companion had returned.

Peter was carrying two mugs of coffee and had a package tucked under one arm. “I spotted the these cookies on the counter, but I didn’t want to dig in the cupboards for sugar and I didn’t see any cream or anything when I looked in the fridge, so...” 

So many words... “S’ok. Don’t need ‘em.” Tony reached out for one of the mugs, inhaling deeply before taking a sip. “Thank you.” It took the rest of the mug of coffee and about a half-dozen cookies before Tony felt even partway awake and communicative. 

And with that came guilt about keeping his identity a secret from Peter. “About the whole Tony Stark thing--” 

“Uh, so, yeah,” Peter jumped in, hand going to the back of his head as his gaze dropped to his lap. “I don’t want you to think last night was just because you remind me of my celebrity crush. I mean, you’re smart, and funny and gorgeous all on your own. Peter looked back up, his hazel eyes clear and guileless. “Even if I’d never heard of Tony Stark, I’d still have done what I did.” 

Tony took a deep breath. No time like the present. “Well, there’s a reason I look and sound a lot like Tony Stark,” he shrugged, “cause I am him.” 

Peter’s look of shock would have been funny if their burgeoning friendship (and maybe more) hadn’t been on the line. “You’re bullshitting me,” he breathed. 

“Nope,” Tony responded, reeling in the desire to pop the P. “I can show you my passport if you want. Like I said, this is a working vacation. I’m here to let Stark Industries’ newly minted CEO deal with the fallout from a hostile takeover attempt without the eccentric heir’s shenanigans getting in the way.” 

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Peter said slowly, clearly still taking in Tony’s confession. “Stane ended up being kind of an asshole, didn’t he?” 

“You have no idea, sunshine.” 

“And wasn’t Ms Potts also your.... Oh. Sorry.” Peter’s sheepish look eased the pang Tony felt at the mention of Pepper’s name, as did the sympathetic squeeze of his hand. 

“Anyways,” Tony finished, “here I am, clay feet and all. I’m sorry I lied to you.” 

And there was that soft grin that Tony was half in love with already. “No, you didn’t, Tony. Well, okay, maybe your name, but the rest? Not technically a lie. Besides, I don’t much care what you’ve been stepping in.” 

Tony started to explain the ‘clay feet’ metaphor, only to catch the mischievous sparkle in Peter’s eyes. “You’re a bit of a handful, aren’t you, Mister Quill?” 

“You should know after last night.” The soft grin had changed to an amused smirk and Tony couldn’t help but be charmed. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Tony asked, leaning in close. 

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gifted to tisfan, since she's the one who got me shipping these two lovely boys.


End file.
